


Please Specify Location

by CasHasThePhoneBox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 66 Seals (Supernatural), Angel Castiel, Attempt at Humor, Blonde, Castiel Gets It Wrong, Gen, Humor, Humorous Ending, Missions Gone Wrong, Oops, Season/Series 04, Shopping Malls, Stereotypes, Talking, Women's Underwear, Wrong place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasHasThePhoneBox/pseuds/CasHasThePhoneBox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to prevent a Seal from breaking, the Winchesters plan to meet with Castiel. There are slight complications. Dean makes a discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Specify Location

**Author's Note:**

> This is perhaps excessively silly. My apologies.

 

 

Another day, another Seal to save – or, at least, try to save, anyway. This time, it’s “Condemning six hundred sixty-six covetous souls to the Pit at the eleventh hour on the sixth day”, or something like that. When they asked him, Cas said he was “uncertain” what it meant beyond the fact that the sixth day of the month was coming up. Then Salem, Oregon lit up with demon signs, especially around the mall.

That’s why Sam and Dean are standing in the middle of Salem Center, dressed as mall cops. They’re waiting for Cas, who agreed to meet them there, and keeping an eye out for demons.

Well, Sam is anyway. Dean’s keeping an eye out for girls, whistling appreciatively now and then.

“Whoo! Check _her_ out,” he says admiringly. “Hey, wait a sec! Does it look like she’s heading this way to you?”

Sam sighs and turns to look at the blonde scurrying across the mall in a turquoise string bikini. “Uh, yeah, Dean, I think she is,” he says with surprise.

“S’my lucky day!” crows Dean, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Sam hits him.

“Ow! What’ja do that for?” he demands angrily.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird,” Sam hisses, “for a girl to be walking around a mall in a bikini?”

“Maybe she’s a model.”

“She’s barefoot. A model would be wearing shoes.”

“Well, maybe it’s spring break or something.”

“We’re in Oregon. In March.”

Dean groans. “Aw, come on, can’t a guy catch a break? I mean, just _once_?”

Bikini Girl is almost upon them, and Sam and Dean prepare for a fight. She walks right up to them, stops, opens her mouth, and-

“Oh my gawd, are you guys like security or something? Please tell me you’re security! Oh my gawd, oh my gawd! Only, this skeevy pervert totally just like showed up in the fitting room with me, and I was like – “ she lets out a high-pitched shriek “- ‘cause I was just like, I need a new bikini for spring break, and their new swim collection is just out, and it’s so like totally sexy, so I’m like trying things on and he’s, like, just, THERE, and he’s totally wearing this long tan raincoat, he was sooooo a flasher, and so I got my phone and started videoing , you know, for like, proof or something, and also ‘cause he was, like, kinda hot, I mean, you know, not really, just kinda, ‘cause he had sexy hair, anyway, then I was like, ‘Oh, he has a tie, so maybe he’s not a flasher’, cause I mean, like do flashers even wear ties? ‘Cause that would be weird, right? So then I’m like, but he’s still, like, a guy, and he’s perving in the fitting room, and I’m like ‘Oh my gawd, I gotta get out of here!’ so I come running out and everybody’s like ‘Huh?’ and then this guy’s like, ‘Fear not, harlots!’ or something all Bible-y like that, and that just made me so mad, ‘cause, like, what RIGHT does he have to call us harlots ‘cause, like, what does that even _mean,_ when HE’S the one sneaking in the fitting rooms, and he’s like a pedophile and a rapist or something, except it’s weird that a preacher would be, or, like, maybe not, ‘cause wasn’t there like all those priests on the news or something, and anyway, I was super mad, so I threw my panties at him, and then everybody else did too, and stuff, and then he was all, like, gone, I mean, like totally gone, so I ran out to look for him, and then – oh my gawd! I’m still wearing the bikini! I wore it outside the store! Does that mean I stole it? ‘Cause I totally didn’t mean to, it’s just that pedophile made me do it, ‘cause I’m, like totally freaked, ‘cause of that guy, so don’t put me in jail, like, you should send him to jail instead before he rapes like a million women, because I am not an object, you know? I mean, why can’t I just, like, try on a new bikini without some creepy flasher rapist pedophile showing up in the fitting room and like, trying to watch me or something, I don’t know, and look, I got this video on my phone to prove it, like, I can, like, Snapchat it to you right now, or are you on Facebook? ‘Cause you guys are kinda sexy, and you can friend me and you can see the video there ‘cause I totally posted it, or you can like, you know, that’s fine, too, you can just look at it on my phone like now or something, it’s right here – “

The endless stream of babble cuts off for a moment as she holds up a bedazzled pink phone, the screen of which shows a video window labeled ‘#CreepyStalkerSexyHair@mall’. Sam hesitantly pushes play. There’s several seconds of the girl in the blue bikini admiring herself in the mirror, and then – sure enough - suddenly, Castiel’s reflection is also in the mirror. The girl’s voice shrieks out a shrill string of “Oh my gawd!”s as video swings around in a nauseating blur and finally lands on Castiel, who frowns confusedly.

“You are neither Dean nor Sam,” he pronounces solemnly, “nor are you a demon.”

The girl’s voice screams again, and once again the video bounces wildly. Then it again focuses on Castiel, who’s now standing in front of the fitting rooms.

“Fear not, harlots,” he proclaims, his eyes flashing a bit of heavenly blue under the bright fluorescent lighting. “Today, my dispute is not with you.”

Eight twenty-something girls screech in outrage, and a ball of purple-and-grey striped fabric goes flying from the foreground and hits the Angel. The idea catches on like flames climbing lighter fluid, and in seconds all the girls are flinging underwear.

Castiel frowns in confusion as a glittery bra lands on his shoulder. He peers down at it uncertainly, then gingerly lifts it to examine it. “Are you assaulting me with undergarments?”

“Get out, pervert!” yells a brunette, nailing him in the back of the head with something hot pink and satiny.

He doesn’t flinch, but looks annoyed. “This is ineffective and unnecessary,” he states, but that doesn’t stop them from pelting him with panties. Three hit his coat, one hits his arm, and one leopard-print pair lands at his feet.

“ I seek Dean Winchester,” he begins.

“Out! Out! Out!” screech the young women.

“The Apocalypse is -“ he is interrupted by a pair of spandex boy shorts to the face. He claws them off hurriedly. “I will search elsewhere,” he concedes. Then he vanishes in sort of an explosion of underwear, and the video ends.

“See? See? I told you, he just, like, vanishes, and I’m, like, totally super-traumatized right now, and, I mean, isn’t there, like, compensation or something? ‘Cause, like, I totally shoeagggh!” she screams. “Omigawd, he’s _right there!_ Get _away,_ get _away,_ you perv!” And then _she_ runs away screaming, leaving Sam holding her glitzy pink phone. He and Dean turn to the disheveled man in the trench coat standing about four inches behind them.

“Hey, Cas! ‘Sabout time!” says Dean, smirking like it’s being outlawed tomorrow. “Did you take a little, ya know, side trip? Satisfy your, uh, curiosity?”

“You did not specify where in the mall to meet!” accuses the Angel, ignoring him.

Dean chuckles. “So you, what, decided you’d just pop on in to Victoria’s Secret? I mean, seriously? You thought we’d be in there?”

“Who is Victoria?” asks Castiel, sounding distressed

Sam covers his mouth and tries to make it look thoughtful instead of like he’s busting a gut.

“I mean, Cas, it’s not like me and Sam need to stock up on teddies, or bras, or… these,” he says slyly. He reaches toward Castiel and grabs something that’s caught in the belt on his trench coat. The something turns out to be a bright red lace G-string.

Sam chokes, and Castiel actually turns faintly red.

“You know, Cas,” drawls Dean, waving the skimpy underwear under Castiel’s nose. “I’m no expert, ‘cause Sammy and me, we’re not really into this sorta thing – and it’s totally okay if you are, man, I’m not judgin’ – but I’m gonna go ahead and say this ain’t your size.”

Castiel looks confused, and there’s the beginning of his famous head tilt. Then his eyes widen in understanding before they narrow in indignation, and he ends up looking just plain offended for a split second before he vanishes with a flutter of wings and coat.

Sam brushes the hair out of his face, and Dean nods at the spot where Castiel just stood.

“Wouldja look at that, Sammy?” he says, holding up the scrap of red lace. “I just discovered angel repellent.”


End file.
